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you only as it was told me. I was long un- | brought one for him, offering him a long ex. conscious, and for some time after the danger pected living. Now we hope to be married ous symptoms had abated I could take no

Dear old Charley ! he is so good. notice of what was passing around me.

I shall, we all shall, be anxious to know more gradually recovering, however, both physically from you. What weather ! Fred is skating.

, and mentally ; and one morning I became He says of us, of Charles and me and you, aware, upon awaking from a doze, that I was Poor things ! poor things !' We dou't think not alone. Some one had come in while I so, do we? I hope some day to see and love slept, and was sitting by my side. A soft your wife. I can guess who it is. I know hand was laid on mine, and, as I looked round, you like the name of Mary. With good wishes a gentle, well-known voice spoke. It was Mary from all of us for the new year, believe me, Percival's. 'I am so thankful, dear,' it said ; your sincere friend, “MARY HORNER."

80 very thankful.' I was still weak, and cried. She stooped and kissed my forehead. "Bless Blundell was standing by me, looking over you !' she whispered, and, with an arch smile, my shoulder, as I read. continucd, 'It was a funny letter for you to “I took in the truth at once," he said. write to me. Besides, I thought,'—she paused, “Don't you

?looking at me. Then she said, 'I must talk Why," I gasped, “ you had reversed the to you about it another day, and scold you ; directions. I saw that at a glance, when you but thank you for it now a thousand thousand

gave me this.” times ! I came to give you my answer, and Exactly! To say that I was not confound you here. Oh, Frank! How could you founded—shocked at first, —would be untrue. be afraid of me? How could you doubt my How could it be otherwise ? But in the calm love? But that is all past now, and I must reflection of succeeding days (for I was left in not tire you even with my happiness. Good- quietness to gather strength) a feeling of satisbye, dearest. And she went out very quickly, faction grew upon me, grateful satisfaction the tears blinding her.

that I had escaped rejection-humiliation on " It is a shame to speak of this ; but you the one hand, and the sorrow of inflicting useare my friend, and it is necessary, if you are less pain on the other ; that I had lost no to understand my feelings. You can imagine friend, but had found a noble heart's great them. What had come to me or to her ? I love. How I came to give my heart to Mary scarcely heeded; I made no response to her Percival I have no intention of describiug. words ; but this she doubtless attributed to But I had done so before I told her ererymy weakened state ; and when she left me I thing—long before she became my wife. lay looking wonderingly at the door. At last Then the letter she received but faintly exa thought struck me. I rang my bell. It was pressed my love for her. We have been answered by my inother. I asked her if there married four years, and each year has found were any letters for me. She feared I was not us more loving, more happy. Now, old friend, equal to exertion, but went to fetch them. As you shall tell me what you think.” soon as I was alone again I searched for one. I only quoted Hamlet's words, I cared for only one. I found it. You shall

There's a divinity that shapes our ends, see it in the original.”

Rough-hew them how we will. He handed me the letter. It was written

G. R. T. in firm, clearly-cut characters, more Greek than “ Italian," and was as follows :


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Shalloveford Rectory, Jan, 4th. The political life of Lord Palmerston has “ MY DEAR FRANK,—It was so kind of you been longer than that of any statesman of the to depend upon my sympathy. Be assured present century at home or abroad, That of you have it.

I do hope you will be accepted ; | Prince Metternich lasted 54 years, from 1794 but of course you will, and be immensely happy. to 1848 ; that of Count Nesselrode also the You can't think how glad I was to hear about same number of years, viz., from 1802 to it. Do you know, I fancied, like a vain thing, 1856 ; that of the Duke of Wellington little that you were just the least bit in the world more than 45 years, dating from the time what Fred would call spoony' upon some- when he was Chief Secretary in Dublin to body here. I should have been so sorry—don't his death ; that of Sir Robert Peel even less be angry-for Charles and I have been engaged still. But Lord Palmerston entered the House the last two years. We have said nothing about of Commons in 1806, and has held office, with it, except, of course, to papa and mamma; very slight intermissions, since 1807, or seven and the same post that brought your letter years more than half a century.

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In this boudoir, so satin-soft,

for a long time stood alone against the parapet Your smiles are mirror-multiplied ;

overlooking the river. It had become quito Rosette had but one glass, which oft

conspicuous through the demolition of the great The Graces might have held with pride.

block of houses near it ; and now the dead, No curtains shadow'd o'er her brow; The dawn ber merry glances met.

too, are expropriated.” The Morgue, as if Ah ! that I cannot love you now

ashamed to confront the splendours of the As in those days I loved Rosette.

Boulevard de Sébastopol, has fled behind the Your gifted mind, so brightly shown,

cathedral of Notre Dame. The new building has The poet-chorus well may lead ;

been erected on the eastern point of the “city," I do not blush the while I own

and is just now opened to the habitués. Rosette knew hardly how to read.

When it became known that it was in conShe had no words to tell me how She loved : love told her meaning yet.

templation to remove the Morgue, suggestions Ah! that I cannot love you now

poured in on the subject of its site and alteraAs in those days I loved Rosette.

tions in its dispositions. One writer suggested Than yours indeed her charms were less,

a building in the style of the mausoleum of Even ber heart less loving seem'd ;

Cecilia Metella, which it would be as well to Nor had her eyes your passionateness

surround with yews and cypresses ; it might be When they upon her lover beam'd.

masked by a row of weeping willows." It is But then she had, I must allow, My youth, which I so much regret :

needless to say that these and similar suggesAh ! that I cannot love you now

tions have been disregarded.

Except in the As in those days I loved Rosette.

important particular of the site of the new W. J. LIETOX.

Morgue, the authorities have acted chiefly

on the recommendations of M. Devergie, who THE MORGUE.

for a long time past has been officially con

nected with it. The general arrangements of The second Empire, which seems bent on re- the new Morgue do not appear to differ greatly newing the whole of Paris, has just completed from those of the old one, which, perhaps, a work which has long been the talk of the most of our readers have seen ; at all events, idlers on the quays.

A good while back the we are told by a French writer that our counthickly inhabited houses of the Marché-Neuf, trymen used to be remarked there in great with bird-fanciers in the shops, and “ dentists of force, and were distinguished by their eager the people” up aloft, displayed huge announce- wish to visit the establishment in every part." ments of removal “by reason of expropria- As this was not permitted, let us initiate them tion.” For many, many months the people's into the mysteries of the Morgue, taking as our dentists, hanging grimly on to the molars of guides two gentlemen, Messieurs Devergie and their unfortunate clients, drag them round other Maillard, who have both in different ways de

The strange foreign birds and sweet voted a great deal of attention to the subject. native songsters have long since ceased chat- The origin of the Morgue is not clearly tering and chirruping in their old haunts. Did traced, and its name, although this seems dow any sagacious bird of them all, in quarters so satisfactorily accounted for, has given antidifferent from its tangled forests or leafy woods, quarians a great deal of trouble. Readers of ever, with head knowingly on one side, specu- our old criminal cases may have met with an late on the crowd which entered and left the account, dated very many years ago, of the door of the little dismal-looking building oppo- discovery of a murdered man's head, which, site, “somewhat in the style of a Greek tomb ?” to facilitate detection of the crime, was forthWhy did they settle there ? I never go through with placed on a post in the churchyard of Seven Dials or the slums of Spitalfields without St. Margaret's, Westminster, to be afterwards wondering why, fresh from pure air and bright transferred, in a bottle of spirits, to the shop country, birds always haunt the quarters where window of a doctor. To beginnings almost wretchedness and gloom most abound. But as rude is no doubt owing the establishment the notes that used to fall on one's ear on of the system which has culminated in the leaving that sad “museum of death” always present Morgue. The word morgue was forjarred on me. What did birds there in that merly a synonym of face. It appears to have infected air, heavy with odours of death, and been the custom, in the old Paris prisons, to haunted by murder and despair and suicide ? set apart a small closet, into which a prisoner Perhaps when free their flight had been marked, was made to enter on his arrival, and here he their song listened to by one who now lay near, was visited by the gaolers, who took mental stretched on the cold slabs of the Morgue ! notes of his appearance ; to this closet the What a neighbourhood to meet in! But they name morgue came to be applied. It was are all gone now. The sinister little building | afterwards transferred to a room in which were

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placed, to await identification, the bodies of low building, with its wide carriage-doors those found dead in the streets or in the river. thrown quite open, showing the interior, paved The practice, which seems to have fallen into like a stable. Through these doors would be desuetude in other prisons, maintained its passing, at busy times of the day, pumbers of ground in the prison of the Châtelet. In a people of both sexes, of all ages, and of every dark, damp, poisonous room were thrown one class ; all, as they enter, turn to the left. Not upon another the corpses of unknown persons knowing what to expect, the visitor, who has who had perished by murder or suicide, and made it his rule in travelling to enter every there they remained till claimed by friends, open door, walks in with the rest. The faces who came, lantern in hand, to seek for their he meets would not, except in rare cases, premissing kindred. Trilling ameliorations were pare him for what he is about to see. He also made. The corpses were stretched out, and turns to the left; but for the moment his view the public looked at them through a small is interrupted by a crowd, all looking earnestly window made in the door of the room ; but at something on the other side of a sort of the general state of things was still horrible. shop-window. The bonne, with her basket, The great Revolution, which changed so much has just run in on her way home from market; else, left the Morgue untouched. Its history the workman in cap and blouse, who has a few is interwoven with that of the epoch, and re- minutes left after his meal for a pipe and a calls some of the most hideous scenes of that stroll ; mothers with children in arms ; pergreat drama. Hither came the trunk of old haps even a well-dressed woman with her little Foulou, while the head, its mouth stuffed with son in the half-inilitary costume of the schools, the grass which he had told the people they -anybody and everybody is there. At last might eat, went through the city aloft on the some one who has had enough makes room, head of a pike.

It was met in its course by and then you advance, and, leaning your arms Berthier, Foulon's son-in-law, whose dismem- on a railing breast high, you can look through bered body went also to the Morgue.

the window like the rest. Ten large slabs, But the old Morgue was doomedl. John arranged in two of five each, the Peter, or, as he preferred to be called, upper parts of which, inclined towards the Anaxagoras, Chaumette, the great inventor of window, have brass plates let into them. How the Worship of Reason, and of the law of Sus- many of the slabs are occupied ? One, two, pects, devised many other things in his day, three-perhaps more. More frequently than being a man of versatile gevius. True, his those in front, the back ones; for on them are proposal to compel the whole French people to placed the bodies fished out of the Seine, and wear wooden shoes, and to live on potatoes, the river is the great purveyor of the Morgue. fell through ; but before he himself had come They lie there with their leather aprons, in a to be “suspected,” and had had his head shorn full light from above. To-day it is a fair girl, off, he had pronounced the condemnation of whose long hair hangs dank about her face and the Morgue of his day as a disgusting device bosom, which seem flushed by exercise. She of kings, aud unworthy of a republic, which looks so calm, that you might think she slept ought to have in its place a clean, well-venti- another sleep than that of death. Near her lated building, with stone slabs, and running lies a heavily-built fellow, who looks as if he water, and full registers. It was only in 1804, had stumbled drunk into the canal. How long eleven years later, that Chaumette's proposal since ? From a tap over the head the water was carried out by the opening, on the “first drips constantly over the swollen black face Fructidor," of a new Morgue on the quay of -swollen out of all recognition—and trickles the Marché-Neuf. Considerable alterations along the swollen black body and limbs. were afterwards introduced. In 1830 it was “ Hold ! how droll it is !” says the little reconstructed and enlarged ; and still further collegian, turning away with his mother. The changes in 1835 left the Morgue pretty much cap and blouse asks, appealingly, “ Whether as it was at its closing a short time ago. What one can recognise objects like that ?" A lively it was at the time of our last visit we may conversation goes on around. The age, the now describe.

length of time since death, and the cause of Crossing the Pont au Change, a visitor on death, are all discussed ; and from the authorihis way to the cathedral of Notre Dame would tative manner in which some persons express hold on, till, just before coming to the bridge their opinion, it is easy to divine that they leading off the island of the city, he would take are regular frequenters of the place. The the turning by the side of the river, the Quay Morgue is their theatre and their literature. of the Marché-Neuf, leading to the church. Hither they come for their 6 sensation" He would have taken very few steps in its di- dramas and novels, and assuredly they get rection before he found himself near a sombre, them. But the sensation must have dulled, for



one often hears obscene jests on the wretched clothes of drowned persons, and another in objects lying before him. The greatest curi- which watches the one of the two attendants osity is excited by a half cylinder of gauze whose turn it is for night duty, and who must wire-work, covering one of the slabs. Js there be ready to open at all hours. anything under it? Something like the dim Such was the old Morgue ; in a few words outline of a body is just discernible. Perhaps we may describe some of the main features in it is a subject which has to remain here for its the new one. It is situated, as we have said, allotted time, but which is too far gone for behind the cathedral of Notre Dame : the exhibition. If so, judging from what one does entire establishment consists of a central see there at times, it must be bad indeed. pavilion, supported on either side by a building

Around, on hooks attached to a bar running of lower relative height. To the central above the slabs, are hung the clothes taken off building the public are admitted by three the bodies which lie below. They are kept for wide arched doors opening into a large pared months after the burial of the body, as still room, at the end of which, and separated from affording possible chances of recognition. On it by a large window or shop-front, is the room the wall facing the entrance is a notice request- in which the bodies are laid out for exhiing that any person who recognises a body will bition. There are here twelve slabs of black give information at the Greffe, and closing with marble, instead of the ten of the old Morgue ; an assurance that no expense is entailed by they are ranged in two rows; those at the back, making such a declaration. In spite, however, over each of which is a water-tap, are destined, of all the efforts of the authorities, a tradition as formerly, for bodies found in the Seine, still exists that there is a charge made to those Behind the room in which the bodies are laid who recognise bodies. This belief, which has out is the “reception"-room, in which, as its arisen no one knows how, was contradicted by name implies, bodies are received from witha police notice some years ago, and is, one might out, and where, in Morgue phrase, their suppose, dying out; but it is said that persons toilette" is made. Next to this is the frequently go away without giving the in- dead-house, with fourteen slabs of black formation they might afford through fear of the marble, covered with closely-woven gauze “Morgue dues." The belief may perhaps have cylinders. Beyond this is the dissecting-room, arisen from the fact that the regulations do not in which are made the necessary scientific permit the delivery of a body to friends, ex- examinations. In the other division are the cept through the intervention of the pompes washing and drying rooms, and a chamber in funèbres, a measure dictated by considerations which the clothes of unrecognised bodies are of public decency.

kept during a year.

These are carefully On the right-hand side of the entrance is the numbered ; and as every unclaimed body is greffe, or registry, where the registrar attends described and at last buried under a correfrom ten to four. Is there another man in sponding number, questions of identity can Europe who sits down to such a set of books ? be referred to the registers, or may even lead, Not only has he to record the facts connected within a certain time, to exhumation, These with the bodies brought to the Morgue, but arrangements seem to realise the ideal Morgue letters are daily received containing descrip- of the future of Chaumette, and are thought tions of missing persons.

Anxious families by judges to leave nothing to be desired. have perhaps read in the journals of the dis- The staff of the Morgue is not large. M. covery of a body resembling some dear lost Devergie is the medical inspector ; M. Tardieu one, and their fears have to be calmed or con- undertakes the dissections ; the registrar and firmed. Behind the greffe, towards the Seine, the two attendants complete the staff.

The is the dissecting room.

Next to this a room whole establishment is in connection with the in which is kept a dark-green cart, used for police. The regulations issued with regard to the transport of bodies to the cemetery, a duty the Morgue begin in 1712, and some of them! performed at night by the attendant going off throw a curious light on the manners of their duty. By the side of this, again, is the lavoir, day. The rules issued in 1836 are very full

, a large basin, breast high, filled with water, and provide for all the internal arrangements and provided with a wide stone margin. A of the building. The formalities to be obbody when received is placed on this stone and served on receiving a body, its display, medical washed by the attendants, by means of a hose. examination, delivery to friends, interment, The last room on the ground floor is the dead the hours of opening the building, its ventilahouse, to which bodies are removed after exhi- tion, the drying and washing of the clothes, bition, or where they are placed when received and their final disposal,—all have their parain such a state as to render their exhibition graphs. Before 1830 the attendants lived in impracticable. Above is a room for drying the the Morgue ; but an article in the regulations


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